Jasper's fingers flexed at his sides, the memory of her hair against his knuckles as real as the chill in the autumn air.

The stadium lights buzzed like a trapped insect. His cleats pressed deeper into the fake grass, finding the solid earth beneath.

Across the fifty, Mira turned her back to him. Her shoulders were tight under her team jacket. She tapped her play sheet with a pen, a rapid, impatient staccato he could almost hear from here.

He knew that tap. Three fast clicks. It meant she was thinking, hard, and anyone who interrupted her would regret it.

His coach’s voice was a distant foghorn. "Callahan! You planning to join warm-ups today?"

Jasper dropped into a lunge, his eyes never leaving her. The stretch burned in his hamstrings. A good burn. A real one.

Mira’s ponytail swung as she gestured a linebacker into position. Her hand cut the air—precise, surgical. That hand had traced the line of his jaw once, in a dark dorm room, while he pretended to sleep.

She’d whispered plays then, too. Different ones. Secrets.

Now she was teaching his opponents how to break him.

The linebacker jogged past Jasper, giving him a nod. A competitor’s nod. Jasper didn’t see it. He only saw Mira’s profile as she finally, slowly, turned her head.

Her gaze found his. It didn’t dart away. It held.

The stadium noise faded to a low hum. The chill vanished. There was only the line between them, painted bright white, and the six years that felt like both a canyon and a breath.

The clipboard in her hand dipped. Just an inch. Her grip shifted, her knuckles going pale.

Jasper stood up from his lunge. He didn’t blink.

Her lips parted. Not to speak. Just a quick, sharp intake he remembered from the moment before a kiss. Or a confession.

Then her professional mask slammed back down. Her chin lifted. The clipboard rose, a shield against her chest.

She gave him a single, slow nod. Not a greeting. An acknowledgment. A challenge.

Jasper felt a smile touch his mouth, one he didn't intend. He nodded back.

Her eyes darkened. She turned on her heel and walked away, her stride quicker than before, the sharp tap of her cleats on the concrete tunnel fading into the roar of the coming game.